Mortis: The Saga Begins
by sachariah
Summary: With funds in short supply, the Jedi are forced to resort to more inventive methods of obtaining income. Answering the call of duty, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ahsoka Tano, set out to do what no Jedi has ever done before. "Humorish", One-shot


**Mortis - The Saga Begins...**

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><p>"Mysterious message! A transmission has been intercepted far beyond the Outer Rim, deep in the Chrelythiumn system. Why the call has been made, and from where cannot be established. But buried in the message is a Jedi distress code that has not been used in over 2,000 years. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker and his Padawan Ahsoka are sent to investigate. Fearing a Separatist trap, they are to meet with a heavily armed Jedi cruiser..."<p>

Ahsoka frowned, lowering the datapad. "Isn't that just... lame?" she spoke doubtfully, eyeing her Master.

Anakin shrugged, his eyes on his own pad. "Sounds fine to me, but the fellow they were auditioning for the narration sounds much better reading it than you." He smirked over his shoulder at his unhappy apprentice.

"Huh? Kane? He sounded like Admiral Yularen with a headcold!" Ahsoka shot back with a glare.

"In all honesty, both of you should be working on your own parts of script," Obi-Wan admonished. "No sense spending time on details others are responsible for."

Ahsoka sighed. "I was actually trying to avoid reading my part. I really don't like this at all." She laid the pad beside on the overstuffed lounge chair, staring glumly at the opulent red carpeting. The lounge was more extravagantly furnished than anything she'd seen before. The seats were overplushed and over stuffed, upholstered in crimson nerf's hide, with gleaming gold chrome around the edges. There was room for three of her on this one chair alone. Ornamental chandeliers hung by delicate chains, and she had to resist the urge to use the Force to swing them over their heads. Everything was bright red and gold and shiny and made her head hurt.

She looked back at her Master. "Doesn't this, I don't know, make the Jedi look... cheap? We're not actors."

"That's the best part, Snips!" Anakin responded brightly, crossing his legs and settling back in his seat. "We're playing ourselves, so there's no acting involved."

"But there's a war going on!" Ahsoka protested, flinging her arms out, landing them with a light smack on the arms of the nerfhide chair. "We should be out there fighting, or something."

"And _that's_ why they scheduled the shooting during our leave!" Anakin explained, smiling victoriously. "Problem solved!"

"Beyond that, a sizable percentage of all revenue generated is being donated to the Order." Obi-Wan stroked his beard. "With funds in such short supply of late, the income should be a boon to the internal logistics at the Temple. It's a small price to pay, on the whole, though I agree it's rather frivolous."

Ahsoka moaned. "You guys are all just fine with it because you like your parts," she grumbled. "Master Kenobi is the good guy for the whole thing, and Skyguy you're the star, and I'm just the expendable Padawan that keeps messing things up."

"Hey, you fix the ship," her Master offered.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "_After _that overweight mynock pulls me out of it and sticks me in his castle," she shot back. "And did see the concept art in the office, for when I turn to the dark side?" She shuddered. "That's just _creepy. _I don't know if I'll ever be able to look in a mirror again."

The two elder Jedi didn't respond, both intently scanning their parts. She picked up her own pad again, and began paging through the script. Her brow furrowed. "And what's with this little wamp rat that bites me? Like, he injects 'dark side juice' into me? Who's idea was that?" She flipped another few screens. "I mean, Master you at least get a reason for turning to the dark side, but for me it's just a joke. They tie me up and stick it in me." She was silent a minute, eyes dancing across the pad. "Although now that I look at it, you've got a really weird twist there yourself, Skyguy."

Anakin looked up, eyebrow raised. "Huh? I thought I did pretty good."

Ahsoka wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, but look, scene eighty-seven, I think it ends up on the last segment." She pointed a slim finger at her pad. "So, the 'Son' shows you the future, right? And you see yourself turning to the dark side, and yadda yadda, and then you go off and turn to the dark side, to _stop_ it?" She shook her head. "You can be dense, Master, but this is just stupid!"

"Actually I was thinking it was quite fitting, all things considered," Obi-Wan remarked, waving a hand in Anakin's direction. "You do have a tendency to cause the exact same trouble you set out to prevent."

"Yeah, yeah," Anakin responded dismissively. "You're both just jealous that I'm the 'Chosen One' here. Relax, it's just a fun story." He picked up his glass from the crystalline refreshment table, draining its contents in a quick gulp. "Actually, I was looking at scene thirty-four, at the monastery, the C.O 'test'. Did you see that one? Where the Son and Daughter have you both in their claws and I-"

"Yes, and you happen along and save us _and_ the universe in one cosmic Force pull, thanks for the reminder. All in a day's work for you, my former Padawan." Obi-Wan reached for his own glass, taking a small sip. "Though I can't say the Daughter looks to be unpleasant company," he added thoughtfully.

"Overweight mutant mynock for me," Ahsoka grumbled. "The writers must hate me, for some reason. And did you read _my_ vision? That's just scary, with the grown up version of me and everything." She winced, as she skimmed the part in question. "Who's going to play the older me, I wonder? Probably not Master Ti."

"Can I get you anything else, sirs?" A serving droid, with a shimmering gold skin that outshined Threepio even after a good scrub, approached with a tray of drinks and an outlandish assortment of sweet breads and other exotic treats.

"No, that will be quite fine," Obi-Wan stated firmly, casting a warming glance at his former Padawan. "_Moderation_, Anakin" he spoke earnestly as the server departed. "Gluttony is hardly worthy of a Jedi."

"Hey, I'm just making use of available resources, Master! Nothing to worry about." Anakin helped himself to a large, glazed pastry, almost inhaling the doughnut in a single bite.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I taught you anything. Okay, let me try this." Setting his datapad and glass on the nearest table, he cleared his throat, and spread his arms wide. "Anakin!" he shouted, "The planet _is _the Force!"

Ahsoka held back a giggle at the awkward performance. Her Master furrowed his brow in disapproval. "Faster," he insisted, forcing down his large intake of doughy sweetness. "More intense," he added, before taking another drink.

Arms still oustretched, Obi-Wan shot the younger man a look of annoyance. "Excuse me? You were about to tell me your life story?"

"Everything I know..." Anakin began, with a wise smirk.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Oh, how I wish..." he added. He settled back into his seat, picking up his datapad again. Paging to a different scene, his brow furrowed sharply. "Anakin, what is _this _about?"

Anakin looked up from his cup with a complex expression that seemed conote, "Huh?"

"Eighty-seven again, your vision. Down in the cave," Obi-Wan eyed his pad intently. "What's this line, with Senator _Amidala_? 'Anakin, you're breaking my-'"

"Oh, _that!" _Anakin laughed, though Ahsoka noted it sounded rather coerced. "Just a little backstory Sac'ul and I came up with, where I have some sort of a, um, 'relationship' with Pad- the Senator. You know, add a little romance into the plot?" He waved a hand dramatically. "You can't have a good Holonet show without some secret love, right?" He laughed his forced laugh again, while eying Obi-Wan with a slight tint of nervousness. "I mean, come on, it's just a fun story."

The elder Master returned his gaze with mild suspicion. "Why, yes, of course. How completely _original_ of you." With another roll of the eyes, he sighed. "I hope you didn't sign on for a show detailing that 'backstory'."

Anakin's eyes perked at that statement, though he quickly reverted to his dismissive look. "Hah, fat chance. Me and... the Senator, it would never work."

"Does anyone care what the Padawan thinks?" Ahsoka asked dryly, not enjoying being left out of the conversation.

"Of course we do, Snips. What's on your mind?"

Anakin seemed just a little eager for a change of subject, but Ahsoka let it slip. "What's all the mystique about the 'Chosen One' coming from? I never read anything about a special family with light side, dark side kids and an old guy. Who are these people? They're not Jedi, but the script never explains, and we never even get to ask!"

Anakin opened his mouth to say something, but Obi-Wan put a stop to it rather abruptly. "Reality rarely sells, young one," he spoke sadly. "While it pains me a little to see such matters treated so lightly, the fact is that this is entertainment for many people." He sighed, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Ahsoka didn't hear a word he said, and was doubled over, her shoulders shaking in a fit of laughter. "The fact is so little is really known about the prophecy of the Chosen One, there's little to go on. So the writers have more or less free reign."

At this point Obi-Wan released the pastry he had Force-pinned to Anakin's face. The young Knight glared in a mixture of shock and indignation as it slid to his lap. "You.. you-"

"Made use of an available resource, my former Padawan." Kenobi flippantly went back to his datapad. "Seems I have become a learner, and you, the Master."

Anakin scowled as he wiped the sugar and glaze from his face. "Oh, so _now_ you listen to me, that's a first." He immediately returned the favor, sending another doughnut flying towards his former Master. Obi-Wan casually blocked the sugary missile with a wave of the hand, spinning in slow motion as he gracefully returned it to the tray.

"I -"

A clink and small splash cut him off, as Kenobi stared in surprise at his sticky drenched tunic. Anakin pulled the now empty glass towards him, floating it lightly to a landing on the tray beside the failed projectile pastry. "I'd say the circle is now complete, wouldn't you?" he asked with a smirk, one hand still picking glaze from his cheeks.

Ahsoka could laugh no more, and finally turned away, avoiding looking at the dueling Masters. "You know," she said to herself, "this would be a way more 'entertaining' show than anything they could put together in that studio."

She ducked another gooey missile, and winced when she heard the _snap-hiss_ of a lightsaber igniting.

"And it makes me look a _whole_ lot better."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, okay. This is lame, I know. I'm not a humor writer, not at all. I just have been up to my neck in angst and gloom lately, and I wanted something to make myself grin, at least. That, combined with a flippant remark to laloga regarding my intense detestation of the "Mortis" arc in Season 3, gave rise to this bit of nonsense. It's not meant to be plausible (Anakin and Obi-Wan foodfight? Come on...), just not-dark.

If it made you smile, than I'm more than satisfied. If not, hey. It was free.


End file.
